


Catch

by coolasdicks



Series: Too Rough!Verse [3]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Series, Too Rough verse, broken arm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 10:55:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1425907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolasdicks/pseuds/coolasdicks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael breaks his arm during an Immersion shoot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catch

Filming Immersion was quickly becoming one of Michael’s favorite activities.

He got to hang with his boi and do dangerous things, though the amount of safety precautions that Burnie and Gus implemented was a bit of a downer. The actual build-up to filming was torturous too; all talk and no play for weeks and weeks while they planned. And sitting next to Gavin in the conference room, the Brit’s leg jiggling up and down as he mindlessly toyed with the contracts they were supposed to be signing, was probably Michael’s _least_ favorite activity.

Despite having puked his guts out for at least an hour after riding in that stupid racecar, it had been the time of Michael’s life. Having been raised into a rather sheltered life, as Geoff so often enjoyed to tease him about, Michael had never experienced a thrill quite like driving over a hundred miles an hour around a race track multiple times while simultaneously trying to steer his own virtual vehicle. His adrenaline had been pumping, blood coursing through his body at a speed similar to that of the car. Throwing up, though disgusting and a major inconvenience, hadn’t even bothered him. He’d rationed that it didn’t matter how he felt – as long as the camera caught it, and the audience enjoyed it, his short-lived misery was worth it.

The next Immersion hadn’t required as much planning. Playing paintball wasn’t nearly as dangerous and Michael hadn’t had to worry about the technical side of the concept – he was just the one wearing the split-screen helmet. It was Gus’ job to create the contraption, and in Michael’s opinion, it was well-made, if not a little dizzying.

“How do I switch to fullscreen on mine?” Gavin asked, frowning as he wrestled the helmet over his head. It bumped on the bridge of his nose, the image flickering.

Gus rolled his eyes and reached forward to display how the controls worked. Michael laughed and batted at Lindsay, who was attempting to latch the neck of his blue Immersion suit. She knocked away his hands with light slaps.

“Barbara told me to tell you not to aim for the balls,” Lindsay told him, grinning as he turned around. She smacked the visor, causing the image to shake.

“Why would she tell me that?” Michael laughed. His breath caused the space in the helmet to warm immediately.

“Because she’s called dibs.”

“He’s _my_ boyfriend, his balls are my dibs.”

Lindsay laughed and nodded in agreement. Gavin gave them a suspicious glance between continuing his lowly spoken conversation with Barb. Patting Michael’s shoulder, Lindsay gave the redhead an encouraging smile before reaching over and carefully lifting his paintball gun from the table. She handed it to her best friend with vigor, shoving the machine into his palms and glancing at the time. “It’s gonna get hot around noon,” she told him.

“So we should hurry?” Michael said, looking down at his gun and grimacing when he saw how distorted his depth perception was. “Fucking shit – this is gonna suck so hard.” Regardless, he was sporting a wide grin.

_This is gonna be fucking fun._

Barbara was a step ahead of Lindsay, already proceeding to push Gavin away from the table they’d set up just outside of the paintball course. They’d filmed the intro early that morning, just after the sun had risen, and Burnie was hopeful that they’d be finished before the workday was officially over. Neither Gavin nor Michael were expecting that to play out true, but at least they’d be spending the day doing something fun.

The set up was damn near as torturous as the meetings were. Gavin and Michael were rushed around, shown the course inside and out, and sat down for the safety instructions. Despite the many jokes, there was nothing Burnie took more seriously than his employee’s safety.

But finally, after about two hours, Michael and Gavin were finally placed on opposite sides of the course, gun in either man’s hand and camera trained on both. The start of the match was signaled minutes later, and the game was on.

True to Burnie’s words, the hardest part in the first few moments was getting used to the rather disorientating split screen view of the other man’s camera. Michael stumbled forward the first few steps with grace equivalent to that of a toddler’s. The crunch of the dried leaves under his shoes was muffled through the foam surrounding his head, but his breathing was deafening. He held his gun at the ready, despite having no visual on Gav just yet.

He allowed his eyes to glance to where Gavin was looking. It was utterly unfamiliar to him – Gavin could be looking straight at him and Michael probably wouldn’t realize. Shaking his head, Michael kept his eyes trained on his upper portion of the screen and continued around the corner.

“Gavin,” Michael called when he heard the familiar ramblings of the Brit. “Where are ya, buddy?”

There was a cameraman in his screen for a split second before he practically dove off camera. Michael snickered and pointed his gun away from the man, eyes raking the horizon for any sign of Gavin, but there were just the dull colors of the run down buildings and trees.

His shoe stubbed on a step in front of him. Michael glanced down, startled slightly. He cursed and made an exaggerated step over the small ledge. He called again for his boi, but the moment he rounded the corner, he hesitated.

There was a blue blur in the far right corner of his screen. It was wobbling back and forth, but Michael couldn’t make out the details. He started backing up hastily, realizing that it _was_ Gavin – the Brit was spinning around to aim his gun at him.

But before Michael could fire his own shot off as he retreated, the heel of his foot struck something solid and unmoving. He instantly tried to right himself by placing it down somewhere else but his balance had already been lost and he went falling into a small pit, arms flailing and catching onto a board that covered half of it. He distantly recognized it as the thing he’d tripped on earlier, but he had better things to worry about, such as Gavin making a loud, gleeful exclamation and firing off some shots in his direction. Michael quickly dragged himself out of the hole, aiming threateningly over his shoulder at Gavin, but the Brit was already sprinting away. Michael took the chance to run and ducked behind the cover of one of the nearby houses.

Cursing, Michael tried to control his breathing. His ankle twinged slightly with each step, but he was able to walk it off for the most part. He could hear his boyfriend making some nonsensical blurbs in the distance.

Pushing off from the house, Michael carefully stepped out from his cover. In his screen, there was no sign of the other man. He warily trekked down the small slope of land, gun held aloft as he searched for Gavin.

He ended up getting extremely lucky.

He found Gavin quickly, the Brit having already trapped himself in a small enclosure. Michael took the shot with vigor, peppering the younger man’s body with the orange pellets. Gavin fired back and took one of the small escape routes that led out the back, effectively fleeing the scene.

Michael leaned heavily against the wall, aiming his gun towards the sky as he looked at Gavin’s screen. He could see the Brit preparing a grenade and edged more inside the wall so he wasn’t hit and waited, watching as Gavin threw the small, green plastic ball until it exploded in a mess of yellow just feet from him.

“It didn’t work!” he heard Gavin yell. Peeking around the corner, Michael laughed when he saw Gavin retreating hastily, running to better cover. Taking the chance for a change of location himself, Michael skipped to the next building. He sideswiped a grenade from the top of a crate as he went, grinning to himself. Uncapping it, he frowned when the pin got stuck halfway.

“Oh, you got a grenade, huh?” he heard Gavin shout tauntingly. “Bring it!”

“If I can figure out… how to undo it – aw, fuck!” he shouted when a sudden flow of yellow burst from the lid. It showered over his hands and the front of his pants. “I grenade-ed myself!”

He wiped his hands on the back of his pants, but Gavin had suddenly rounded the corner and begun firing. He hissed when he was hit in the thigh, a sting starting up almost immediately and only enhancing as he ran backwards. He sloppily fired back and Gavin soon began to run. Michael chased after him until the Brit was trapped in a small hut. Burnie and Gus called the round after realizing Michael had won, though the redhead admittedly hadn’t gotten too many shots in on the Brit.

Round two went well enough. He heard Gavin screaming and squealing from across the course, but his confusion only lasted a few moments. He realized belatedly that there were now _NPC’s_ firing at them. It was no longer just Gavin and Michael on the course.

It was just by chance he ended up back where Round one had started. He was following after Gavin, shooting wildly at the other’s back after the idiot threw a grenade at him and missed, laughing as he did so. Michael probably wasn’t very successful, as running tended to throw off his aim, but he chased after his boyfriend with a large grin.

He wasn’t completely sure what happened this time. His foot smashed into brick, but instead of simply doing a half-jump into the hole like he’d done before, his inertia was far greater, sending him sprawling into the small pit. He could only stretch out one hand, the gun in the other causing him to reflexively pull it inwards, and he felt an unpleasant shock wave ripple up his left arm. His fingers went numb, probably from smashing into the concrete, and soon someone was tapping his shoulder.

“You alright?” one of the camera crew asked him. Michael automatically nodded, holding up a shaky thumb as affirmative. He struggled to get to his feet and finally stood atop the board covering the other half, stumbling around for a moment before he stepped off and onto solid ground.

He became aware of the ache a little into the third match. By then, Lindsay had absolutely _wrecked_ him. There were bruises littering his stomach – and a particularly painful one on his ass – as a testament to how many times she’d fired mercilessly into him. He’d gone down almost instantly.

But a few minutes after the signal for round three, Michael realized that it wasn’t just his fingertips that’d gone numb. His wrist was throbbing, pain radiating up the limb in forceful waves until he couldn’t bear to hold it upright. His thumb was refusing to listen to him. He’d yet to meet Gavin on the course, so it wasn’t an issue yet, but even as he walked, the pain began to make him feel dizzy. Just as he was considering calling for aid, he felt his foot slip off something irritatingly familiar and went tumbling sideways. Only one arm pinwheeled this time, and he landed on his left with a sickening crunch. His head was cushioned from the blow but stars still managed to burst in his eyes.

He lay there, propped up slightly by all the gear attached to him, with a ringing in his ears for the better part of a minute before hands were finally all over him, sitting him up more firmly and taking off his helmet. He frowned, blinking against the sudden flood of bright sunlight.

“The Go-Pro –” he started, the words alarmingly slurred together.

Gavin was staring down at him, face abnormally pale. His own helmet was off, hair matted down slightly, and there were goggle lines around his eyes.

“Michael, silly boi, did you hit your head?” Gavin asked shakily, laughing. He sat back on his heels and wiped the sweat off his forehead.

“No?” Michael said rubbing the back of his head. “I fell in this damn, fucking _hole_ again. Three times now!”

“You stopped talking for a moment there – I got concerned,” Gavin confessed. He glanced up when the many sounds of footfalls thundered around them. Burnie was leading the small stampede, clipboard forgotten as he hopped down into the small pit and crouched next to Michael.

“What happened?” he asked without hesitating.

“Michael fell into this damn pit again,” Gavin laughed. There was an awkward pause in which Michael was supposed to joke about his own misfortune, his own clumsiness, his own mistake, _something –_ but the redhead simply gazed at a point off in the distance with a dazed look on his face. The conversation seemed oddly irrelevant to him.

“Does he need a med check, sir?” someone asked Burnie. By the way they were dressed, Michael assumed they were one of the medical officers they had on hand in case of an emergency. The thought made him laugh.

“Maybe he does,” Burnie said in a joking tone, though there was a spark of worry in his eyes. He looked at Gavin. “You’re alright, aren’t you? Did you see what happened? I saw in the main camera, but he went out of frame for a moment.”

“I wasn’t looking at his screen, but I think he just fell. Maybe hit his head,” Gavin suggested.

“Alright, well let’s get him up,” Burnie said bracingly. He climbed to his feet and carefully pried Michael’s gun out of his hand and pulled his arm over his shoulder, hefting the redhead upwards until Michael was finally able to stand on his own two rocky feet. “Christ – you’re fucking leaning on me, Michael, support your own damn weight.”

“We can take him from here, sir,” the medical officer offered. Burnie shook his head, realizing that the man didn’t know he was saying the words only to taunt Michael into giving a proper response. Burnie was a buff guy – he could carry one dude, for heaven’s sake.

“I got him,” Burnie replied as he helped Michael walk from the hole. The redhead started pulling away after a few moments, coming to his senses slightly.

“This does not feel good,” Michael announced loudly. Gavin had to muffle his giggle at the blatantly spoken words.

“What doesn’t, Michael?” Gavin asked.

“Being held by Burnie,” Michael answered.

“As long as it’s on camera,” Gavin sang, patting Michael on the shoulder.

“Right,” Michael remembered. “Camera. What’re we doing? Immersion?”

Burnie and Gavin gave each other a glance before increasing their pace to the medical tent. Michael bumbled along beside the older man, struggling to keep up with the speedy walk that soon turned into a jog.

“Why’re you going so fast?” Michael grumbled when they finally reached their destination. He tugged away from Burnie and plopped into a chair, grinning at the larger man’s stunned stare.

“Because you sound like you’ve dropped about eighty IQ points,” Gavin said, rolling his eyes. He had a cell-phone out in hand and stepped away to make a call a moment later. Michael looked at him suspiciously, but for what, he wasn’t sure. He forgot about it in a few second anyway and turned to Burnie, scrunching up his face at the older man.

“We weren’t done, were we?” Michael asked confusedly.

“No, we’d just started match three,” Burnie said, stepping back and a certified medical officer crouched in front of Michael instead.

Michael glared at him but dejectedly allowed the man to flash a small penlight into his eyes. He then took his pulse and asked him if anything hurt. After a long moment of deliberation, Michael told him to ask him later.

Burnie found that a little funny while Gavin found it none. Stuffing his phone back into his pocket, Gavin muttered something into Burnie’s ear before he swiftly left the tent. Michael stared after him in bewilderment, slightly hurt that Gavin would simply leave when there was a good chance he was hurt. He wasn’t, but still. Gavin should stay.

“He just bumped his head against the brick step, if I had to guess,” the medic said, parting Michael’s hair and searching his scalp for any visible injury.

“He had on a helmet,” Burnie pointed out, brow furrowing.

“It probably saved him from getting a more severe concussion. I don’t think he even has a minor one – just seems a little confused.”

“My arm hurts,” Michael suddenly exclaimed, but a second later, he thrust out the wrong one. The medic immediately took hold of his arm, frowning and helping Michael shrug out of the blue labcoat. He felt up and down the expanse of Michael’s bare arm, shaking his head when he reached his fingers.

“Nothing seems wrong,” he said. “But if the pain persists, visit a doctor.” Looking up at Burnie, he said, “I wouldn’t advise continuing the shoot.”

Burnie nodded as if expecting that answer. “We’ll just say that the NPC’s won. Lindsay shot the shit out of you earlier, Michael. We were honestly thinking to award them the victory anyway.”

“I knew it was Lindsay who’d shot me in the dick,” Michael hissed. Burnie laughed.

The medic moved away from Michael, leaving the redhead to recline against the back of the chair and sigh. He sorely wished Gavin was near him, but the younger hadn’t come back yet. He wondered where the idiot was.

He spent the next thirty minutes with his head in his hands, a headache forming strong behind his right ear. As his adrenaline fell, the pain in his left arm rose until it was nearly unbearable. His breathing was labored with the effort of raising his arm to cradle the injured appendage to his chest. The tent was empty and he wasn’t sure if he could stand without just immediately passing out, so he settled on waiting for something to enter.

He didn’t count on the next person being Geoff.

Almost missing the sound of the tarp being shifted, Michael glanced up in time to see the tattooed arms pulling the white sheet to the side. His eyes widened, dread filling his stomach like ice water.

“What’s with that face?” Geoff laughed, allowing the tarp to hang open behind him. Michael could see Burnie talking to Lindsay and Barbara near the prep table.

“Uh –” Michael hesitated. Geoff’s eyes were doing that cute squinty thing when he was happy to see the redhead. Michael telling him that he was about 89% sure that his arm was broken would definitely wipe the expression off his face, not to mention get him in trouble. Ever since the fucking rib incident, he’s been in hot water, despite it having happened almost half a year ago. “Hi, Geoff,” he said weakly.

“Gav called a little while ago,” Geoff said, moving closer and running his hands carefully through the redhead’s curls. “I’m glad to hear you’re okay. I know from – ah – _personal_ experience that Immersion can give you some pretty nasty scars, both mental and physical.”

“Right,” Michael said awkwardly.

“Sorry, does that hurt?” Geoff said, withdrawing his hands. He placed them on Michael’s shoulders instead and fucking _ow._ That hurt like a sonofabitch. Michael’s eyes began to water.

“How’s Gav?” Michael heard himself ask.

“Says you got him real good in the thighs,” Geoff snickered. “I gotta say – you have to be a pretty good shot to get him in the chicken legs.”

Michael chuckled breathily. “Wasn’t too hard, actually.”

“Yeah. Immersion was always fun to shoot,” Geoff said fondly. “Me and Gus were little shits on the stage, but we had a great time.”

“Yep, this is, uh… pretty fun,” Michael said lamely. He was floundering for words at this point, the only thing on his mind the pain in his arm. Geoff seemed to be in an oddly good mood, however, and a distinct sense of _pride_ was emanating from the tattooed man.

“I doubt they’ll have any food challenges this time,” Geoff said ruefully, shaking his head and grinning. “You downed that barbeque sauce like you were born for it. Gavin would just puke off the bat. I doubt that’d be fun to watch.”

Michael nodded in agreement. His vision seemed to bounce off the top of his skull and the sudden words, _medical check before bed_ floated through his mind. They were gone as soon as they’d come, and he was back to looking at Geoff’s concerned face.

“Are you alright?” Geoff asked after a pause. “Does your head hurt? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you so quiet.” There was another pause as something darker flickered in the man’s gray orbs. “Not hiding anything, are we?” he asked in a deceivingly light tone.

 _Now or never._ “Well… it does, a bit, actually,” Michael started, trying to answer the questions in the order they were asked. “And my ar –”

“A hole, Michael?” a voice proclaimed, Ray bursting into the tent a moment later with an odd glint in his eye. Michael wasn’t sure if the brunette was going to punch him or hug him. “If you’re going to lose, it at _least_ should be by a human.”

“Three times is pretty ridiculous,” Ryan agreed. He held the tarp open for Jack and Gavin before walking in himself. It had suddenly become stuffy and cramped in the small space. Michael could feel his skin start to crawl, the surface of his body immediately warming a few degrees. His fingertips weren’t moving, though he was fairly sure he’d just clenched his hands into fists.

“You get befuddled by the oddest things,” Geoff said, rolling his eyes.

“I wasn’t befuddled,” Michael gritted out. “It was hard to see where I was putting my feet. Gavin knows what I’m talking about, don’t you, boi?”

Gavin gave him a slight glare and reluctantly agreed. “Yeah… but three times is still ridiculous. It was literally your starting point and you couldn’t remember that there was a drop there?”

“Why’re you being pissy?” Michael asked.

“Because you shot me in the legs!” Gavin squawked. “And it _hurts!_ ”

“Good,” Michael chuckled. “Because you got me a few times, too. Paintball sucks. This is why laser tag is much more fun.”

Gavin seemed to cool off almost instantly. “I agree whole-heartedly,” he said loudly. The words seemed to pound against the redhead’s eardrum. “It was fun before that, though.”

“Before what?”

“Before you _fell,_ you tosspot. You scared the living hell out of me. I could see from your point of view that your head hit the step and then you stopped moving!”

Michael flushed in embarrassment. “Yeah, well, I was a bit stunned,” he muttered.

“Not even a concussion,” Gavin said, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “You’re a drama queen.”

Michael gulped. “Right. Uh – I actually think that I may’ve –”

“Can I come in?” a voice interrupted. Michael almost bit his tongue.

Burnie shoved his head through the opening without waiting for a response. He glanced at each Hunter’s face before looking at Geoff quizzically. “I didn’t realize Gavin was calling the cavalry.”

“Well, I only called Geoff, but everyone else came as well,” Gavin said defensively.

“No one was doing anything,” Geoff shrugged. “Except maybe for Ryan, but he can make it up tomorrow.” Ryan nodded along with Geoff’s words.

“Alright, well, we have to shoot a wrap up and then we can go home,” Burnie said, directing his statement towards Michael and Gavin. The latter nodded and at once began to follow Burnie from the tent, but Michael hesitated before he rose. Geoff’s sharp eyes caught the small flinch and he instantly was outside, talking to Burnie in low tones.

“The medic said he was fine,” Burnie said, frowning. He started to step back towards the tent as if he was going to be the one performing the next exam.

Geoff gave him a flat look. “You’ve been knocked out before, Burns, you know how shitty it feels afterwards. Does he really need to do a wrap up?”

Burnie grimaced, torn. “If he really can’t, then no, we don’t need a wrap up. But –”

Michael barreled from the small enclosure with a red face and stumbled to an unsteady stop in front of the two. “I can film a damn wrap up, Geoff. Christ – this whole thing shouldn’t be for nothing.”

Geoff looked unhappy but nodded. As he followed Burnie to the filming site, Michael vowed to tell Geoff about his slightly more serious injury after the video was completed.

His time in front of the camera was mostly spent staring at either Burnie or the lens with a doofy dumbfounded expression. The sun was blindingly bright in his eyes and suffocatingly warm on his skin, causing Michael to suffer in silent discomfort next to his lover and his boss’s boss. He lipped a few lines for the sake of the video and playfully pretended to chase Lindsay off the screen with his gun, but as soon as ‘ _cut!_ ’ was called, Michael almost dropped from exhaustion.

Lindsay skittered off to the side, glancing over her shoulder to ensure that the redhead wasn’t following her and frowned when she say he’d slumped his shoulders slightly, seeming to cave in on himself. Panting, Michael lowered the gun; the weight was far too much for just one arm and his other was no longer responding.

Geoff was off to the side of the shoot, chatting it up with one of the camera crew as he chewed on a small cheese cube. He shot his two boys, injured and tired, a few glances now and again, but he was soon distracted by the arrival of Barb.

Michael frowned to himself as his eyesight began to twist sideways. Confused, he watched his vision drift to the side, the ground now becoming a wall to his right. He muttered a few curses, realizing that wow – he needed to talk to Geoff.

_Now, please –_

Gavin’s giggling laughing was loud in his ear suddenly as the Brit threw himself at the redhead with no warning. Michael had zero time to react before he was slammed to the ground, squished under the weight of his boyfriend. His arm – broken, bruised, and now probably bleeding – was trapped underneath his chest. He blacked out for a solid few seconds as the sudden flood of pain ambushed his neurons, ransacking his brain and leaving him without a single coherent thought.

Gavin’s weight was lifted off of him in milliseconds, though by who, Michael couldn’t say. He wondered distantly if he’d made a noise, if that was why they’d responded so quickly, but before he could even begin to question it, he was sitting up and having yet _another_ light shined in his eyes.

Raising his good hand, he smacked it away, clutching at his forehead when it was knocked from the man’s hands. He heard a familiar nervous giggle off to his right and turned to see Gavin standing with Geoff and the rest of his boyfriends. Michael’s face flushed when he saw that the rest of the entire fucking company was stirring a few yards away. Michael had never been so thankful for Burnie’s leadership abilities – he’d managed to give Michael space before Michael had even realized he needed it.

“Sir? Sir?”

“Christ,” Michael mumbled, pulling away from the pushy guy crouching in front of him. “Go away.”

The man hesitated before asking, “Do you know your name?”

“Of course I do,” Michael huffed. He glared at the man challengingly before realizing that he was being checked for a concussion. Feeling nauseated and tired, he ground out both his name, the current president, and the date before the man could even ask.

“Do you know why you cried out for help?” the medic asked. Michael’s face went red and he rephrased his question. “Er – what hurts?”

Michael sent the others a glance before looking guiltily at the ground. “My arm,” he said. This time, he didn’t offer the man either one of his arms. Due to his rather defensive tuck of the appendage against his ribs, it wasn’t hard to guess.

The medic very carefully took Michael’s arm into his hands. He held it just above the elbow, gloved fingers careful in their inspection. When he felt downwards, he stopped as soon as he heard Michael’s sharp inhale.

“This will need an X-Ray,” he said after a moment of deliberation. “I think it’s broken. Did this happen just now?”

At the look of horror on Gavin’s face, Michael couldn’t possibly hold that over the Brit’s head. Knowing he’d be placing his own ass firmly over the fire, Michael shook his head and said, “No, I think it was when I fell… the, uh, second time.”

The medic looked confused, even as he waved over his other little blue-gloved friends. After giving them a hasty run-down of the situation, one of them scurried off to tell Burnie. The others just hovered around the original’s shoulder. “I thought you hit your head the third time?” he asked.

“It didn’t feel that bad,” Michael said, giving himself some leeway. “Maybe, like, a bruise or something…”

“Falling probably made it worse,” he nodded. “Alright. Hospital time. You’re probably gonna need a cast, so be thinking about the colors.”

 _Well,_ Michael thought. _At least that won’t be hard to think about._

\---

Turned out, he wasn’t allowed to choose the color of his cast.

He woke up with a pink one on.

It was the first thing his blurry eyes opened to see, the sight causing his nose to automatically wrinkle. Whatever pain meds he’d been given couldn’t mask the sense of annoyance he instantly met as soon as his brain began processing his surroundings.

“I might actually kill him,” he heard a voice murmur. “I mean… this has to be justified in a court of law, right?”

“No, Ray, sadly I think that would still count as murder.”

A flash of déjà vu struck him. He opened his eyes more and cringed against the bright lights of the hospital room. Frowning, Michael tried to recall when he’d fallen asleep, but the memory of shooting someone with paintballs was the last thing he could remember.

“Ah, sleeping beauty,” a rough voice groused. “Glad to see your upper brain functions are working, if not a bit slowly.”

“Eh, that’s still being debated over here, Geoff,” Jack called from somewhere in the room. He sounded marginally cheerier than the other men who had spoken so far, if not creepily so. Gavin had yet to speak, causing Michael to fully open his eyes and look around the room in search of the Brit.

Geoff was lounging on the edge of his hospital bed, staring at him with a raised eyebrow. The look in his eyes was something Michael couldn’t quite deal with at the moment, so he continued to some of the other gazes in the room.

Honestly, they weren’t much better. Ryan was sitting across from Ray in the table near the window, the two looking tired and desperately in need of a good punching bag. Jack was sporting the largest cup of coffee Michael had ever seen, which explained why his voice resembled a long-lost chipmunk brother. Gavin, interestingly enough, was sitting in his lap, legs slung over the edge of the chair ready to collapse under their weight.

None of them looked very impressed with him.

“Why am I here again?” Michael blurted in a bland tone.

Geoff looked surprised. After a long, stunned pause, he finally said, “I gotta say… out of everything, that was the last thing I was expecting you to say.”

“An apology would’ve been nicer,” Ray muttered.

“A promise to not be dumber than Gavin,” Jack supplied.

After sending the bearded man a heated glare, Gavin put in, “Maybe a warning next time?”

“Literally none of that answers my question,” Michael said, shaking his head.

“Yeah, of course,” Gavin mumbled. “Why would he remember? That would be too _fair,_ wouldn’t it?”

“I broke my arm,” Michael stated, bringing the horrendously bright pink cast up as if they weren’t aware of it. “My _arm’s_ broken.”

There was a pause.

“I take back what I said about his upper brain functions working again,” Geoff groaned. “He doesn’t even have a concussion - he’s just stupid. Why are they giving him the good pain killers?”

“Probably because he was crying when we got here,” Ray suggested.

“I was not,” Michael automatically shot back. Contrary to their rather condescending words, Michael was clear-headed and lucid, if not slightly confused. His memory stirred after his sharp retort and a burst of understand struck him. He could physically feel the blood draining from his face. His face distorted into what could only be described as guilt. “Oh,” he drawled, the word going flat near the end.

“For all the ways that this relationship is depicted online,” Ryan said thoughtfully. “It’s funny how the fans seemed to think _Gavin_ is the stupid one.”

“No, no,” Michael said quickly, attempting to stop the rising lecture. “Wait –”

“I agree, Ryan,” Geoff said loudly, easily cutting the redhead off. “It _is_ funny. Because even though both men were placed in the exact same scenario, only one of them got hurt, and it definitely wasn’t the one the Internet expected.”

“It wasn’t the exact same scenario –”

“Well said, Geoff,” Ryan said loudly. Michael rolled his eyes and sat back against the hospital pillow, waiting for the two to finish their game. “I personally suspected both would come out with a few nicely shaped bruises. The broken arm was a real plot twist, though, lettme tell ya.”

“And you know what else, Ryan?” Geoff said in an exaggerated tone. “The real kicker is when the motherfucker didn’t say anything about the broken arm! Haha! Funny, _isn’t it_?”

Michael winced, waiting for them to quiet. “Did you finally run the joke into the ground?” he said cautiously.

Geoff’s face contorted. “When was it ever a joke?”

Michael’s never backpedaled so quickly in his life. “Not a joke, not a joke,” he said hastily. “I didn’t mean it like that. It was never a joke.”

Geoff shook his head. The fake cheery act had vanished within seconds, leaving a warm, sizzling pot of anger in its place. Michael wasn’t positive which he would’ve preferred.

“This relationship is going to give me gray hairs!” he suddenly shouted, startling everyone in the room. “In my beard, in my hair – fuck, maybe even my goddamn pubes! I can’t take it anymore!”

Michael felt his heart seemed to stall. “What?” he said hollowly. Everyone else was looking at Geoff in a similar blank, slightly frightened stare.

“This needs to stop,” Geoff said in a much calmer voice. He seemed to realize that everyone was still staring at him with terror in their eyes, he quickly said, “Not the relationship, you idiots. The miscommunication. The _lying._ ”

“Well, that’s Michael’s deal,” Gavin said, pointing traitorously at the redhead. “He’s the one who can’t figure out how to ask for help.”

Michael could’ve throttled him, but before he could get a word in, Geoff was already talking. “Unfortunately for us, we love him and he’s part of this relationship, too, which means his baggage is ours.”

Geoff’s words carried a sharp sting in them. “Baggage?” Michael said with disgust. “Fucking baggage – fuck you, I don’t have baggage.”

Geoff was unsatisfied by his response and simply steamrolled right over it. “It’s bordering on some sort of weird fetish, Michael,” the older man said. Michael couldn’t help his snort. “Don’t roll your eyes at me – what, do you _like_ getting hurt and not telling anyone?”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Geoff,” Michael snapped, his smirk disappearing. “You know that’s not it. Just fucking drop it already – it was all Gavin’s fault to start with.”

Gavin made a loud scoff. “How was it my fault?”

“You fucking tackled me _knowing_ I most likely had a head injury!”

Gavin faltered, paling slightly. “That has nothing to do with your arm,” he said waspishly after recovering, crossing his arms and glaring at Michael. “Stop trying to shovel the blame off on other people!”

“I’m not shoveling the blame, it was never mine to begin with,” Michael snapped at him before looking pleadingly at Geoff. “It’s not a fetish and it’s - it’s not the same as the rib thing, I promise. I didn’t even lie, I was just trying to find a good time to say it. You were in such a good mood!”

“Anytime after I walked into the tent would have been a good time to tell me, Michael,” Geoff growled. Michael could see that his fists were clenched on the bed sheet.

He swallowed heavily. “I’m sorry,” he said finally.

Geoff’s expression didn’t change. “Yeah, no shit. Michael…” he seemed to be at a loss for words. After a long moment of staring into the redhead’s eyes, Geoff finally seemed to gather the thoughts together. “You need to realize that I’m not fucking around anymore.”

Michael’s brow drew together in confusion. “I don’t -”

“You’ll see what I mean. But you’re making it very hard to trust you.”

“I was going to tell you!” Michael said hotly.

“When? Days later? When your fingers had started to turn blue?” Geoff said scathingly, firing off the questions as if he’d thought of them while Michael was asleep.

Michael spoke without thinking. “When I felt like it,” he said bitingly.

Geoff’s eyes narrowed and Gavin made an audible noise of disbelief. Glancing around, Michael realized he’d just said something… so, _so_ wrong. Ryan was gazing at him with what looked like pity, while Jack and Ray were shaking their heads.

There was a long moment of silence. Geoff did nothing but stare calmly into russet eyes, expression shut off and distant. Michael held his breath and waited for the tattooed man to tear into him.

“I’m going to call a nurse and get your release forms,” Geoff said finally, voice utterly devoid of emotion. He stood up from the bed and walked mechanically out the door, shutting it behind him with barely a noise. Michael stared after him before looking to his other lovers desperately.

None would meet his eyes.

\---

The ride home was surprisingly normal. Gavin attempted to steal Michael’s car seat before the redhead could struggle inside, but after smacking him firmly on the ass with the blunt of his cast, the Brit quickly made his way to the back of the van. His arm ached for a while afterwards, but Michael sat happily in his original sea with a smug smile on his face. It was easy to ignore the sullen expression on Gavin’s face and the cold one on Geoff’s. Ryan, at least, treated him normally enough, even leaning over to peck him on the lips halfway through the ride. Jack was too busy calming Geoff, a large hand rubbing soothing circles into the tattooed man’s tense shoulders. It was a pleasantly average car ride, similar to the ones to and from work, and Michael’s painkillers were starting to really kick in. He sat and talked to Ryan with a dopey smile for the majority of the ride.

Once they got home, all men dispersed. Michael sat on the couch and reclined in the middle cushion with his legs up on the table. It didn’t feel like just that morning he’d been playfully unloading round after round of small balls of paint into Gavin’s ass. And yet somehow, it’d been him that had ended up hurt.

He flipped on the TV and was content with sitting alone for a few hours as the rest of his boyfriends bumbled around the house. Ray came to join him a little after five, sliding into the spot next to Michael and wrapping his arms tenderly around the redhead’s waist. Michael welcomed him gladly and curled his good arm around the brunette’s shoulders. Gavin joined not long after that, peeking around the corner and brightening up when he saw that there was the beginning of a Lad’s cuddle session happening on the couch. He practically slammed into Ray in his haste to join, laughing and apologizing as he moved off the Puerto Rican. Taking the spot on the other side of Michael he placed his head on the redhead’s lap and smirked up at him. Rolling his eyes, Michael returned a grin.

They watched four episodes of _It’s Always Sunny_ before Jack finally called for dinner. Gavin scrambled over the back of the couch, spouting something about being _starving_ after such a tiring day, but Michael and Ray were slower to follow. Ray yawned, stretched, and reached up to give Michael a kiss on the corner of the mouth before he fully rolled off the redhead’s lap. Michael copped a feel before the brunette was out of reaching distant and chuckled at Ray’s flirty wink.

Okay, so he didn’t mess up _too_ bad, then. It wasn’t nearly as tense as the dinner had been after he’d come back from the hospital last time. Though, it was admittedly less of an injury as well. The cast was heavy and annoying, and his head was still faintly light-headed, but it was nothing compared to having to carefully watch his every move. There was still a scar where he’d gotten surgery, and if that wasn’t a downer to see every time he took off his shirt, he didn’t know what was.

They ate dinner in a comfortable atmosphere, despite Geoff’s silence. Burnie called halfway through to ask about Michael and Geoff had seemed embarrassed that he’d forgotten to keep him up to date. Michael eavesdropped as well as he could, but he got the feeling Gavin was purposefully trying to draw his attention away. Before he could tell the Brit to shut up, however, Geoff was already sitting back down at the dinner table and slipping the phone back into his pocket.

Bed was a much awaited event. Michael had never been happier to crawl into bed, the many aches and pains in his body alleviated the instant the sheets caressed his skin. He’d stripped down to his boxers tonight, but the sight of the purple and red welts on his stomach almost convinced him to put a shirt back on. He ultimately decided against it, knowing that his lovers wouldn’t be seeing them anyway. It was dark outside and he was planning on stealing the middle spot.

He jumped out of his skin when the light was suddenly flicked on. Groaning, he pulled the comforter over his head and mumbled a drowsy, “Turn off the damn light!”

“Sit up,” Geoff’s voice instructed. Michael stiffened where he lay.

He slowly looked out from under the sheets to stare at Geoff. The older man was waiting impatiently, eyebrow raised and hands on his hips. Michael glared at him.

“What?” he demanded.

“Sit up,” Geoff repeated in a crystal clear, short tone of voice. It made Michael’s hackles rise. The presence of the other four boys lingering in the doorway, watching excitedly, only encouraged him to challenge Geoff.

“Why?”

Geoff started towards him and Michael couldn’t control his body’s automatic reflex. He sat straight up, glaring heatedly at the tattooed man. Geoff wasn’t even looking at him, instead eyeing his stomach with an unhappy frown. Glancing down, Michael realized he was staring at the small purple bruises. He covered them with the blanket.

Geoff swallowed heavily. “C’mon, Michael,” he said in a shockingly soft voice. He held out a hand. “Just for a moment.”

Michael automatically reached out to take the offered appendage, reeling when he was suddenly pulled from the bed. He stood after a moment and rubbed his eyes, grumbling annoyed curses under his breath. Geoff’s gaze had softened immensely after he’d caught sight of the paintball marks. Why, Michael wasn’t sure - they weren’t nearly as bad as the broken arm.

Geoff’s warm hands steadied him by the biceps and held him at a distance as his sharp gray eyes ran over the expanse of Michael’s pale body. Flushing slightly under the intensive gaze, Michael started to pull away. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Keeping my promise,” Geoff murmured. Letting go of the redhead’s biceps, he ran careful fingers down the length of Michael’s arms. He skimmed over the cast without acknowledgement and instead switched focus to his right. He bent the elbow, felt along the muscles, just barely squeezed the joints before testing them out - it took Michael an embarrassingly long time to figure out what the man was doing.

“You’re not serious,” he snapped, jerking his arm back and clutching it to his chest as if Geoff had harmed him.

“Deadly,” Geoff said shortly, seeming to forget about his arm. He moved upwards without skipping a beat, briefly massaging the firm, meaty part near the edge of his shoulders before running his thumb along his collarbone, fingers digging lightly into the skin of his back. Michael went still as fingers felt along his neck, softly tilting his head up so he could smooth across the line of his jaw. Michael looked anywhere but Geoff’s scrutinizing gaze.

As soon as Geoff’s hands released his jaw, Michael glared up at the older. “I know what you’re doing,” he informed him with barely suppressed anger.

“I’m glad you can remember back that far,” Geoff said sarcastically, burying his fingers in Michael’s hair to feel along his skull. There was a bruise above his right ear, but Geoff skipped over it as if he knew it was there.

“Geoff, this is ridiculous,” Michael said, but he was beginning to lose steam. Exhaustion was heavy in his bones, even the broken one, and he was close to falling over.

“Yep,” Geoff agreed easily, tugging lightly on Michael’s ear as playful payback. He stepped back slightly to get a better look at the redhead’s chest, leaning slightly in order to smooth his hand over the skin. Michael shivered slightly when he brushed over his nipples, but there was nothing sensual about the touch. It felt distinctly like a physical - the medical once over Geoff had promised him months ago should he have a repeat performance.

Geoff didn’t disappoint.

He felt along the redhead’s ribs with what felt like trepidation. It wasn’t just Michael in the room who was holding his breath. Geoff’s efficient movements faltered when he reached the long, pink scar, his fingers grazing the injured skin with reverence. It tickled slightly and a phantom pain nipped at the edge of his mind. Michael could remember that day so vividly, the bright shade of red splattering one of his hands as he coughed up blood into his hands flashing across his vision. But then Geoff was moving away to his pelvis and he could breathe again. Geoff knelt in front of him and Michael was able to see over his head, the expressions of his other boyfriends slightly haunting. He hadn’t been alone in that unpleasant memory.

Geoff started to tug down his boxers, causing Michael to sputter and immediately snatch his tattooed hands up. Geoff looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.

“That is definitely not necessary,” Michael pleaded, dropping the other’s hands.

Geoff seemed to debate for a long moment, hand resting casually on Michael’s backside. Taking mercy on the redhead, Geoff shrugged and said, “Alright. There’s not much they can hide anyway.”

Michael breathed out a sigh of relief as Geoff continued down. Big hands didn’t hesitate to feel in between his thighs, however, and the sensation made his legs go weak. Geoff ignored his hitch of breath and inspected his skinned knees before making sure his calves were uninjured. He finished up quickly, recognizing the sleepiness in the redhead’s eyes, and stood up. Pushing Michael back to lay on the bed, he bent to look him right in the eyes.

“This will be fun,” he told him with a shark-like grin. “I will check you over every damn night before bed for as long as I deem necessary. Got it?”

Michael’s gut was sent into flurries. Oddly enough, the idea wasn’t _completely_ unpleasant. He was sure that once the most of the anger was gone from the man, Geoff would be easily seduced during any one of these _exams._ He hesitated in his initial protest and instead smirked, nodding in agreement. Geoff studied him with an eye of doubt before pulling away to undress. The rest of the boys figured it was alright to come into the room and slowly began peeling off clothes as well.

Sighing with happiness, Michael scooted to make room for the other five men on the bed. They were absurdly careful with him, which was annoying as hell, but he didn’t dare complain. He may’ve accidentally hit Jack once or twice with the obnoxiously pink cast while they were adjusting, but it was alright.

Michael still ended up with the middle spot.

 


End file.
